“Never leap before ye look, Mr. Darcy.”
Did she now believe he was not Nicholas? Her use of his real name was promising.
A gust of frigid air puckered his skin, and he shivered. “It is a mistake I have not repeated since.” He reached out to Jaffa. “I would like to put my shirt back on.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Alex said, letting him stand exposed in the cold for longer than necessary, milking every advantage she gained from his cold humiliation. Finally, she nodded her assent to Jaffa.
Darcy slipped on his shirt and rubbed his arms. It was either the last of August or the first of September—he did not know how long they had kept him under. A day? Two? A week? Nor did he know where they were. Had the breeze been warmer, he would suspect they had sailed south to the warmer currents. But it was too cold for them to be anywhere but in the northern Atlantic. So much for attempting to swim to shore. He would freeze before he made it.
He would have to use his wits. “Now that we have established that I am not this Nicholas, when can youreturn me to London? I presume we are not far from shore?”
She tapped her ragged nails against her chin, keeping her eyes on him and revealing nothing of their location. Not so much as a glance in the direction from whence they had come. “Ye’re the mirror image of him, but ye’re not Nick.” Her nostrils flared. “And ye’ve made me lose precious time, exposin’ me and me crew to capture in these Navy-infested waters. Bauer! Cotton! Come here, ye scurvy good-for-nothins! I gave ye one job. One.”
The crew quieted, the only sound that of the flapping sails overhead and the feet of the two men Alex had called scrambling to the helm. One was as large as an ox—the muscle. The other was lanky and wore an eye patch—the brain? Darcy’s abductors.
They stood in front of her, their heads bowed, hands clasped in front. The large one was missing the tip of his little finger on his right hand. Looking at the pair, Darcy tried not to be overly disappointed in himself for allowing them to overpower him outside the tavern.
Eye patch opened his mouth to speak, but Alex shut him up with a hiss and the point of her dagger. “Not a word from ye, Bauer.” Flicking the pointy end of the blade between the two, she added, “I ought to cast both of ye over the side. Ye’ve endangered me and yer shipmates—yer brothers—our entire livelihood,and, most unforgivable, theFancy. Have ye anything to say in yer defense?”
Only the worst fool would try to defend himself when Alex had already passed judgment.
Cotton mumbled, “Ye said it yerself, Cap’n: He and The Blade, they’s identical.”
Bauer, to whom Darcy had credited with more mental faculties than the man deserved, added, “Ye had a hard time knowin’ ‘tweren’t him, Cap’n. Ye can’t punish us fer makin’ the same mistake.”
Darcy cringed. How had he fallen prey tothese two?
Alex shot them a look as sharp as her preferred weapon. Her words were clipped, acute. “When I ask me crew to get a job done, they’d better get it done right. Or would ye have me take a ship with a bunch of buffoons blundering at the cannons, cuttin’ their fingers on their own cutlasses, and blastin’ each other to pieces with misfiring pistols? Out here, failure to follow orders leads to early death. Stupidity is unforgivable.” She turned to a man standing behind her. “Keelhaul ‘em. Side to side. Once over.” To Cotton and Bauer, she said, “May God have mercy on yer souls, for I cannot.”
The two men trembled in place, their eyes wide, and their knees buckling as they were jostled down to the lower deck—two men who had been asked to fulfill a task beyond their capabilities.
Like a slap across the face, the irony of Darcy’s situation struck him. Far be it for him to defend hiskidnappers, but the injustice of them paying for their mistake so harshly burned in his bones. He could not remain silent. In his most authoritative voice, Darcy commanded, “No. Do not do this. It is inhumane.”
Silence. Darcy’s skin prickled as hundreds of eyes turned to him. Even Cotton and Bauer gawked open-mouthed at him.
Slowly, very slowly, Alex spun around to face him. Stepping closer, she said, “Ye dare to defy me? The cap’n of this ship? My word is law here. To defy me is to die.” She now stood toe-to-toe with him. She barely reached his shoulder, but her commanding presence more than made up for her lack of height.
Darcy stood his ground, grateful the boat did not sway so much lest he budge from his intimidating pose. Looking down at her with all the imperiousness in his possession, he said, “It is cruel. You are renowned as a fierce pirate, but before me, I see a lady capable of commanding the respect and obedience of her crew without making herself a bloodthirsty, unredeemable monster.”
“I already have their obedience.”
He pierced her with his sternest stare. Tougher men had wilted under it, but Alex did not even flinch. Steeling his voice, Darcy said, “Tell me, do your men serve under you out of fear, or have you won their respect, thereby earning their loyalty and making each of them an invaluable member of yourcrew—men who would die before they would even consider betraying you?”
The men milled about, whispering and grunting.
He had struck a nerve.
Alex noticed, too. She was not a fool. When her gaze returned to him, he saw as much fury as there was frustration, and Darcy knew she would make him pay. Dearly. But then, she winked—twice, in quick succession—confounding Darcy fully.
Spinning away, she shouted to the lower decks, “Cotton, Bauer, ye owe this man yer miserable lives. Since Mr. Darcy is so eager to save ye, then he’ll take yer place. Side to side, two times, one for each of yer sorry carcasses.”
At her nod, Jaffa gripped Darcy’s arms and pushed him to the main deck. At the bottom of the steps, Jaffa whispered, “Hold your breath. Protect your head. You will live.” He pushed Darcy forward.
Another sailor looped a rope around Darcy, and in one fluid motion pulled it snug and shoved him over the side.
Freezing water stabbed Darcy like thousands of glass shards scraping his skin. He gasped just before he was pulled under the surface. The rope tugged him deeper, jostling his memory to recall Jaffa’s instructions.Hold your breath.If only he had thought to take another breath sooner.
The rope heaved, and Darcy struck against the keel of the ship, knocking the precious breath from hislungs.Protect your head.Darcy wrapped his arms over his head, curling into a ball as he slammed against the bottom of the ship.
